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As you know a couple of weeks ago I got to go on a surprise trip to Fort Worth & see Hank III. I am absolutely in love with his music. His set runs the gamut from classic country to hellbilly to full on heavy metal. How can you not love it? He has the only country album with a parental advisory sticker. Just thought I'd share a few of my favorites.

WARNING: The following post is a letter to a friend in which I reveal a lot about myself. I'm putting it here because if I call there will be more tears than there already has been and I'm not sure if an email will get read. Fuck, I'm crying now and haven't even gotten to the hard part yet. So if you would feel better about skipping this post, please do. If you feel the need to comment, please don't do it to put down the other person involved because that wasn't my intention by doing this. I promise to return to my regular fuckery soon.

I first want you to listen to this song & know that this is how I feel about 50% of the time.

There are many days that the thought of getting out of bed & facing the world is just entirely way too much, but I do it. There are many days that I have to pull the truck over because I am crying so hard. I stop, have my cry and go on. Why don't I tell you these things when we talk? Not because I'm ashamed but because I don't want people feeling sorry for me. Some days I have called thinking maybe today I can tell her, but then there seems to be something going on in your life & you need a shoulder to cry on. Did you ever think that maybe I need a shoulder occasionally?

All the times I have listened to you talk about your ex and the things that he did, sometimes you act is if you're the only person to have ever dealt with an abusive ex. You know that I left WT because I wanted to get clean, but that's only part of the story. I have never told my mother or best friend of almost 25 years the whole story. The abuse didn't start until the last year of our relationship. The final straw came when he beat me so severely that I had a miscarriage. I never even knew I was pregnant. Of this I am ashamed. Not because he beat me but because I stayed. I have since vowed that it will NEVER happen again.

Yesterday when were talking & you told me exactly how many pills you had available, how was I supposed to feel? What was I supposed to say? You tell me things like this and I'm not sure what you want me to say or do. Do you want me to tell you about the time last June I sat in the middle of my bed, with my .44 in my mouth, with the hammer cocked & finger on the trigger? Do you want me to tell you that the only thing that stopped me from pulling the trigger was my niece walking through the front door & hollering, "Where are you Aunt Shanny"? Why haven't I told you about this? Is it because I am ashamed? No. I haven't talked about it because it's in the past. I put it behind me & I've moved on with my life.

A couple weeks ago when I went out with my skirt wearing friend, instead of being happy that I went out and had a great weekend, you made me feel shitty because I wasn't there to answer the phone to try & make you feel better. I know you jumped to the conclusion that we had sex but FYI, we've never slept together. Well we did share the same bed but that's as far as it ever has & ever will go. Why? Because he's gay. Although you may not have realized it you even made me feel bad for seeing my FWB in NC. Sometimes I don't tell you things because in some way you'll make me feel bad for trying to have a life.

Why don't I ever talk about these things? What good would it accomplish? I talk to my therapist two sometimes 3 times a month. Rehashing it with everyone is not something that I feel I need to do. It took me years to realize I can't deal with my bipolar issues without help. As much as I hate it, I am taking medication for it. Granted it's an extremely low dose but it works for me & doesn't make me feel like a zombie. My highs aren't too high & my lows aren't too low. I refuse to left my fucked up brain chemistry define who I am. Some days it feels like you let your illness & depression define who you are & run your life.

Some days, like yesterday, being physically drained & not really feeling all that great emotionally, I just couldn't deal with the whole woe is me thing. I'm sorry I yelled. I shouldn't have. Sometimes I feel as though you expect me to have some magic words to make everything better. I don't. If I did, I could fix us both. I don't know how much damage I've done to our friendship by posting this but no matter what I'm not saying these things to be mean. I just had some things to say. To use the old packing a suitcase analogy, I'd packed and packed till no more would fit in & it all came flying out in just a few words. Once again, I'm sorry.

Just so you know, asspickle is my new favorite word. I'm not sure where the word originated but I'm giving @OrigCheese credit since she brought to my attention.

Ok, on to my regularly scheduled tale.

A couple weeks ago my favorite Scotsman let me know that he would be arriving last Friday and to pick him up at the airport. Luckily he actually gave me more than 30 minutes notice this time.

On Thursday I get an email telling me that I will have to surrender my phone at the airport, not to be returned until Monday. Then Friday morning I get another email telling me to pack a bag with an outfit appropriate for a nice dinner & an outfit suitable for going to a bar.

I'm not real big on surprises and was thinking I may have to kick some Scottish ass. But being the nice person I am (stop laughing fuckers) , I decided to play along.

Upon arrival at the airport I was told we were going to his brother's house. I'm thinking, "You wanted me to pack a bag so we could out with your brother and his shrew wife? You are such a dead man. " But it turned out we were only there to borrow his brother's plane. Not a fan of flying in general, I was sure we were going to die in this plane. I remember what it looked like when he bought and am still not thoroughly convinced on his brother's mechanical ability. But alas I survived to tell the tale.

First stop was St. Louis for dinner and refueling. We went to the Sidney Street Cafe. Two words, fucking awesome. That and I'm glad he was paying. ;)

Second stop was Fort Worth, where he totally made up for an asspickleishness by taking me to see Hank 3. Oh. Em. Gee. Unfortunately I have no pictures because the bastard wouldn't give me my phone back & I had no other camera. For this he must suffer.

All in all it was an awesome weekend. Even though he did tell me that used up my allotment of birthday and Christmas presents for the next 20 years. Yeah right.

In case you're wondering, yes I made him wear his skirt. If I had to wear one, so did he. ;)

I think this may become a regular kinda thing. As many of you know, I'm a sarcastic, bitchy smart ass. My witticisms aren't limited to just my friends, I've been known to just let them fly. Lots of times at inappropriate times. I mean a lot. Maybe even alot.

This particular tale takes place about 2001 when I was just a mere greenhorn of a truck driver. I got pulled over for speeding & passing in the third lane, which in NC is a big no, no. After the inspection the officer & I were having a little chat.

Trooper: Do you have any explanation for why you were doing 75 in a 65 & in the 3rd lane?

Me: *scuffs ground* Well, actually I do.

Trooper: Oh really. I gotta hear this.

Me: Last week I was abducted by aliens & they implanted this thing in my brain & sometimes it malfunctions.

Trooper: *fighting the giggles* What causes it to malfunction?

Me: Lack of caffeine. Because you know even alien technology isn't perfect.

Trooper: *no longer trying to hold laughter in* You know, I've been a trooper for 10 years and I can honestly say that's the first time anyone has used alien abduction as an excuse for speeding. Today is your lucky day, you get points for creativity.

In the end all I got was a ticket for not wearing my seat belt. Mom always said my smart mouth would get me nowhere. She was wrong.

High atop the hill on SR 2 in Georgia about 20 miles or so west of Ellijay. This is one of my favorite roads to drive. It is a curvy 2 lane mountain road with no shoulder or guard rail. Good times. Yes it is an illness.

Somewhere out west. Oh, I remember now. This was going up US 395 in California.

There are some drivers out there that get nervous if they have to venture more than 5 miles off the interstate, but I'm one that really enjoys a good stretch of two lane road. The less traffic the better in my opinion. I thought I would show some pictures of a recent trip to Ririe Dam in Ririe, ID. Unfortunately most of my pictures didn't turn out due to the cloudiness of the day & the rest have a reflection of my notebook in the windshield. Derp. But I did manage to pull a few good ones out of my ass.

This one here is coming up US 189.

Oh. Em. Gee. Real cows. With real cowboys. As I was passing the cows there was one cow that just turned and mooed at me with a look on her face like will you please keep that big blue thing on your side of the line please.

Coming across US 26 in Wyoming.

Sat here waiting on 1 lane bridge construction in Idaho. If I remember correctly that is the Snake River that crosses US 26.

Just another random shot of a mountain in Idaho. I know who'da thunk it. Mountains. In Idaho. Total novelty item.